Changes
by P-3a
Summary: Anduin Wrynn finally ends up meeting Wrathion Prestor's parents, but things don't progress the way anyone wanted them to. At least, not to begin with. [RL AU. Originally started November 2013.]


"Wrathion, what's going on?"

The phone line crackled as Wrathion took far too long to respond. Usually, Wrathion had a snappy answer for everything - some quick joke to make him forget he was worried, or annoyed, or whatever negative emotion it was that Wrathion seemed to take so much glee in dispelling. But this time he just... hesitated.

"I'll call you back," he said hurriedly, and hung up.

Anduin Wrynn was very concerned.

He paced in the living room for ten minutes trying to decide what to do. He couldn't just /show up/ at Wrathion's flat, could he? Well... he knew where it /was/. Heck, he even had keys for the back door, and had done for a few weeks now. Had Wrathion known something was going to go wrong? Was he /expecting/ him to come? Would he be /angry/?

He called Amber. Wrathion's Amber, not his own. He always found it strange how they both had a friend with that name who had dubious contacts and the widest skill base either of them had ever encountered. At first, Anduin had suspected they might even be talking about the same person, but they'd both turned up to the solstice party last summer and they had definitely both been there at once.

"Kinda busy, Anduin. What's the problem?"  
"Wrathion's acting out of sorts."  
"Oh. What date is it?"  
"Tenth of July. Why?"  
Amber was quiet for a moment. "You probably shouldn't go over."  
"What? Why?"  
"Stop asking questions."

She hung up on him, as well.

This didn't help to lay any of his worries to rest at all. It /could/ just be his period cramps, but... Wrathion wasn't usually quite so /short/ about those. He always tried to obfuscate and make excuses. He'd seemed distracted, almost... frightened. It was when Anduin realised he'd been fidgetting with his keys for the last five minutes that he realised that he'd made his mind up. He fed the cat and headed out to the car.

The drive wasn't distracting enough. He turned the radio up in an effort to drown out his thoughts and found that just as useless. Wrathion wasn't /angry/ at him, was he? No, he hasn't sounded angry. Seemed. Seemed angry. Wrathion never sounded the way he truly was, even when he was happy - but especially when he wasn't. Maybe he'd received bad news of some kind. Oh, no - had he lost his job? Had something stolen?

Anduin steadied himself a little as he climbed out of the car, aware that he was panicking without cause. It was entirely possible that absolutely nothing of consequence had happened at all, and that Wrathion would, at worst, be irritated to see him and mention something about how "overbearingly kind" he was before inviting him in anyway. He descended the stairs to the door of Wrathion's basement flat and knocked politely, smoothing his hair subconsciously as he waited.

It wasn't Wrathion who answered the door.

It wasn't a police officer, either, which set one of Anduin's other concerns to rest. It was a tall, intimidating-looking woman with curly auburn hair and large earrings in the same subtle shade of silvered gold that Wrathion favoured. She had a sharp scowl on her face and folded her arms. "He's not expecting any deliveries," she frowned.  
Anduin glanced down at his attire self-consciously. Jeans and a shirt - really? He wasn't even wearing a name badge. "I'm... not here to deliver anything," he eventually stuttered out. "Uh - where's Wrathion? Is he alright?"  
She frowned, eyeing him up and down again. "Why is it any business of yours?"  
Anduin felt his face grow hot and his temper rise in his throat, but he bit it down. "I don't even know who you are," he said. He /wanted/ to demand to know who she /thought/ she was, but was trying to keep it civil. He didn't want to get thrown out before he'd even managed to get inside in the first place.  
"I'm his step-mother."

Oh. Well. That made some sort of sense. Anduin was about to introduce himself as well when he heard a frighteningly loud thud from inside the flat. The woman flinched; Anduin tried to peer past her. "What's going on?"  
"I told you, it's none of your business."  
"Yes," Anduin insisted, "it /is/. I'm his-" he hesitated - "...friend," he said, not knowing if Wrathion was out to his parents as /gay/ as well as trans, yet. "I came over because I was worried about him."  
"There's nothing to worry about," but there was a waver to her tone that anyone else would be forgiven for missing that made Anduin realise the woman, at least, was worried about what was going on further into the flat.  
Anduin mustered his most imploring look. "Just let me say hi to him. I'll be out the door again before you'll even notice I'm there."  
The woman sighed heavily and stepped aside. "Just don't say I didn't warn you."

Anduin took a deep breath as he paced down the corridor. He could hear a man with a much deeper voice than Wrathion's talking loudly and angrily; he supposed that was Wrathion's father, then. He mentally braced himself as he knocked on the living room door and then opened it.

Wrathion looked up from where he was sitting on the second-hand sofa - and on seeing it wasn't his mother, hid his face with both hands, pressing the heels of his wrists to his eyes and pushing outward, shaking his head so his hair fell across his face to obscure it. His posture was closed and subdued, the opposite of his usual self, and /that/, more than anything, worried Anduin.

Stood opposite him, half-way across the small room and with his fists balled up and angry, was a tall man who was physically the opposite of the small, wiry Wrathion. His dark hair was slicked back from his white face, and something in the way he /glared/ at the intrusion made Anduin want to shrink away the way Wrathion was. But he stood up straight and pursed his lips a little, meeting the man's eye contact and giving a polite nod.

The man didn't return it. "Who," he said, stating his words like the very notion of what (who, Anduin reminded himself) he was referring to was disgusting, "is this."  
Wrathion mumbled something. The man didn't look away from Anduin, but he made a sharp, horrid gesture with his hand and Wrathion /flinched/ and repeated himself. "He's my friend," he said, "that's all."

The man said some more things. Anduin heard them, every suggestion that Anduin had somehow /corrupted/ his child, but he wasn't listening - he understood what he meant, though. There were slurs in there, and more than a few violent suggestions - every word from this man's mouth was hatred. And the longer the man talked, /shouted/ at Anduin, the longer he tried to tear Anduin down and and the more Wrathion sobbed into himself (quiet, like if he stopped existing then maybe this man would leave him alone) the more Anduin understood only one thing.

"We're leaving," he cut across, surprising himself with the authority in his own tone.  
"We?" the man said, incredulously. "Who is 'we'? You're not taking my /daughter/ anywhere," he spat, finishing with the same homophobic slur he'd slung Anduin's way a dozen times since he'd dared to so much as walk in the damn door. Anduin reached back and slammed it open, regretting how he made Wrathion flinch but glad for the way this man who didn't deserve to call himself Wrathion's father took a step back as if re-examining his position.

"You heard me," he asserted, glad that his voice didn't crack - and crossed the room to hold his hand out for Wrathion to take. The gesture grew more urgent as the man advanced on them both, to the point where Anduin grabbed - he hated to - Wrathion's arm and dragged him out of his seat if only to move him from the way of the man's lunge. Wrathion was limp and compliant in a way Anduin had never seen before, and it frightened him more than the fact that he was running for the front door, yanking it open with Wrathion in tow and he registered the woman from before flinching out of the way of them all, not wanting to get caught up in the trouble she'd seen coming.

He felt strangely calm as he ran to the car, Wrathion's pulse fast against the inside of his fingers, his own footsteps even and quick compared to Wrathion's stumbling shuffle and the man's furious strides. He fumbled for his keys in his pocket, pulled them out, opened the door - glanced over his shoulder and registered how far away the man was. It wasn't as far as he'd liked. He didn't have time to panic about that.

His own father would have been proud, he suspected. He pushed Wrathion towards the car and the man (boy, it looked more like, at this time) scrambled for the door as Anduin stood his ground between them. He just hoped he wasn't going to be punched in the eye. Preferably not the rest of the face, either. He needed to be able to drive. He heard the car door slam behind him and darted around to the driver side door, watching the man close in - barely registering the way Wrathion cowered down in his seat and covered his head. He didn't fumble his keys as he started the car like he briefly thought he might; he did accelerate far quicker than he meant to, snarling as he wrestled the car back under control. He registered a yelp from the passenger side seat, but all he could focus on was making sure they were ten, fifteen, thirty feet away from the man rapidly shrinking in his rear view mirror.

He only remembered to put his seatbelt in when they were already on the motorway.

"I told you not to come over," Wrathion said, in a small, angry voice.  
Anduin frowned. "No you didn't. Amber told me that."  
"I thought I told you. It must've been her."  
"Why /didn't/ you tell me?"  
"There wasn't anything you could do without making it worse," Wrathion muttered in a flinty tone.  
"Wrathion, you can't tell me I've made it /worse/ somehow by getting you out of there." Anduin could feel the adrenaline high beginning to leave his system, his heart pounding in his ears and tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, so he pulled over at the next service station. Wrathion stayed quiet until the car had stopped moving and Anduin had turned the engine off.

"...because he isn't going to leave," he said. "He's going to stay in /my/ flat. With /my/ things. He's going to send me photos of all the things he's burning until I come back and let him 'finish'. It'll be just like when we were living together, Anduin -" his tone was desperate and furious, and he /glared/ at Anduin, tears streaming down his cheeks again. "What do you think this has fixed? Why did you come by?!"  
Anduin gripped the steering wheel quietly. He felt useless. "He was going to hit you."  
"And you think I didn't handle that just fine when you /weren't/ there to /ruin/ everything by sweeping in like some knight in shining armour?!"  
"I'm sorry, Wrathion!" He burst into tears as well, keeping his sobs quiet with a bitten lip. "I just want to keep you safe..."  
"I don't /need/ any /help/," Wrathion glared, moving to get out of the car. "I'm going for a walk. Don't /follow/ me this time."

Anduin rest his forehead against the steering wheel as the passenger side door slammed shut and wrestled his composure back into position. Wrathion was right, of course, but feeling guilty about it wasn't going to fix what he'd messed up. He'd let Wrathion sleep in the bed at his place, he'd take the sofa - take extra shifts at work to help Wrathion replace the things that were missed-

...his phone was ringing.

He flipped it out of his pocket and checked - it was Wrathion's house phone. Adrenaline surged through him again and against his better judgement, he picked up the call.

"Hello?" came a woman's voice.  
"What?" Anduin realised he'd sounded angrier than he meant to. "I mean- what's going on?"  
"I locked him out," she laughed. "Nefarian. I locked him out."  
"You- what?" He scrambled to start the car again, though he didn't know why or where he wanted to go, with it. Wrathion still wasn't back yet, after all. "Are you- are you /safe/? I mean-"  
"Never mind me. Is Wrathion safe?" There was genuine worry in her tone.  
"He's with me. He's... angry. But he's safe. Is-" there was static on the line, "are you sure you're safe?"  
"No," she said, her voice wavering, "but I'm prepared. I'll be alright. Don't come back here. I'll make sure everything's taken care of. Just- don't bring him back here."  
There was another burst of static. Anduin felt bile rising in his throat. "What's - ma'am?"  
"My name's Rheastrasza," she said. "Please-"

The phone went to dial tone.

Anduin called his dad.

"I need you to phone work right-" his words hitched in a hiccough, "now, I- something's wrong-"  
"Slow down, Anduin." The concern in Varian Wrynn's voice was forefront. "What happened?"  
"Wrathion's flat, his dad - his step-mum, she's there and they're- something bad's happened, I know it-"  
"Are /you/ safe?" Varian's tone was urgent.  
"Yeah, me and Wrathion, we're miles away - but his step-mum-"  
"I'll sort it." He hung up, evidently understanding the urgency of the situation.

Anduin had done all he could. He still felt useless. He'd hurt Wrathion, escalated everything beyond reparation - and now there might be a life on the line.

It took twenty minutes before Wrathion returned to the car. Anduin had stopped crying by then, thankfully (he hated crying, but most of all he hated crying in front of other people). He clambered in, closed the door, and they sat in silence for a few moments.

They both spoke at once:  
"Your step-mum called."  
"I'm sorry."

Wrathion looked down, quietly. "You first."  
"Your step-mum called me," Anduin repeated. "From your house phone."  
Wrathion stared at him.  
"...uh," Anduin continued, not knowing what to say. "She. Uh, she said your stuff is safe."  
Wrathion was still staring, looking like he was trying to work out what the catch was. "And... my father..?"  
"I don't know," Anduin swallowed. "I'm sorry."

There was another awkwardly long silence. Anduin spoke up next, again. "Let's go back to mine. If that's, um. If that's alright. I'll take the couch."  
"Fine." Wrathion drew his seatbelt back over himself and clicked it into place. "Don't, ahh. Don't accelerate like you did before."  
"Yeah."

Anduin pulled out at a measured pace and drove the remaining six or so miles to his home. The car ride was quiet and awkward; Wrathion turned the radio off only ten minutes after they started driving. It started to rain just before they got in. Wrathion, not having his usual trenchcoat, pulled the hood of his jacket up over his hair and pulled it shut by the drawstrings as they headed up the driveway.

It was a single-bedroom terrace house near the edge of town, one Anduin's father had picked out for him but for which Anduin paid the mortgage. Anduin headed around the back with Wrathion dragging his feet close behind, unlocking the door and limply gesturing for Wrathion to come inside. The shorter man ducked his head down as he did, waiting for Anduin to go ahead as he closed the door, tugging his hood down and smoothing his curled, long hair back out of his face.

He'd been here before, but he still seemed to be waiting for permission for everything. He only hung his jacket up after Anduin put his coat away; only kicked his boots off after Anduin did. They both traipsed into the living room; Anduin rest his hands on the back of the sofa for a moment.

"Uh, I'll move my stuff out of my room in a minute. Do you- want tea?"  
"Yeah. Uhh. Maybe." Wrathion glanced down, then up at Anduin. "Nothing's going to be alright, is it."  
"Wrathion..." He moved over cautiously, reaching to take one of Wrathion's hands. Wrathion allowed it limply. "Everything's going to work out fine. Maybe not tomorrow, but... it'll be..."

He trailed off, lifting his other hand to Wrathion's cheek where tears had begun to stream again. Wrathion's jaw was locked, his gaze diverted; he seemed frozen in place again, as if his instincts wanted him to run but he was rooted in place by some other desire. So Anduin gathered him up and hugged him, tightly - he felt Wrathion's resolve break under him and he sobbed for a long time. Anduin stroked his hair the way he knew he liked, kept his pressure on his shoulders firm and rubbed his back the same way; Wrathion reciprocated by bringing his hands to a death-grip on Anduin's t-shirt, warping the fabric in his fingers.

Anduin's bad leg had started to hurt by the time he gently moved them to the sofa. And all at once, Wrathion had leaned up and kissed him, desperately and passionately and with the tears still lingering on his cheeks - but Anduin pulled away, turning the kisses chaste and planting them at Wrathion's cheeks, instead, his forehead. Wrathion made a needy keen, frustratedly trying to close the kiss again; Anduin stopped him, gently, with a hand.

They didn't say anything, but they kept eye contact for a few moments before Wrathion gave up and slumped against Anduin's chest, apparently giving in. Anduin returned to stroking his hair, kissing his temples. "It's going to be fine, Wrathion. It's going to be fine..."

Despite it being only mid-afternoon, they fell asleep like that, the rain drumming patterns on the windows and soothing Anduin's ears and the growing twinge in his leg. It was bleak and twilight by the time he came 'round again, and Wrathion was gone from his lap; he sat up, panic welling in his stomach until he saw the other man curled up on the floor instead, his legs practically tucked up by his ears.

Anduin sighed a little, not impatiently, and bent down to gently shake him awake. "Wrathion," he said. "Let's move you onto the bed. Come on."  
Wrathion groaned and shrunk down smaller into himself. Anduin sighed again. "Come on, love."

Wrathion took a deep breath in and carefully unfurled himself from his defensive curl; Anduin helped him to his feet, then lead him down the corridor. Was it even morning or evening? He pushed the door to his room open and gently lead Wrathion to the bed; and although he'd intended to return to the sofa after that, the way Wrathion's vice-grip on his shirt refused to relent had him clambering into the covers alongside him. He fell asleep in his jeans again, but not long after his head hit the pillow.

The next time he woke up it was definitely mid-morning, though on which day he didn't know. It was to his phone ringing.

"Father?" He'd almost forgotten the occurence of the previous day - or the day before? - and the urgency in his voice rose as he remembered. "What's happened?"  
"Wrathion's with you, yes?"  
"Yeah." He glanced to his side. "He's still asleep."  
"Don't turn on the television."  
"A-Alright." Oh, no. Oh, no... that meant whatever had happened had made the local news. And it was bad.  
"I've managed to get some of his clothes and things from the back room. When do you want me to come by and drop them off?"  
"Uh, as soon as possible. He's- he didn't bring anything with him, I think," he mumbles, turning over to look at Wrathion properly. It only clocked that his father /wasn't/ freaking out about him apparently sleeping in the same room as the boy he'd worked so hard to act like he /wasn't/ dating a moment later, although Anduin supposed there were far more pressing things for his father to worry about right now than his son turning out to be a, as his pastor had said before throwing him out, "practicing homosexual".  
"Alright. I'll come down later this afternoon. Around three. I'll call you when I'm nearby."  
"Alright. Thanks, dad."  
"...no problem, Anduin."

Anduin swallowed and stumbled out of bed, pushing his jeans off his sore legs (why did he ever think it was a good idea to sleep in them?) and changing into a pair of loose jogging bottoms instead before shuffling to the kitchen. It looked like someone had made tea at some point, so he figured Wrathion had gotten up in the night. With a jolt of worry he checked the knife rack, the drawer where the matches were kept - and found them untampered with. He breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't ever find himself thinking that Wrathion would fall back on old habits unless he needed to, but... it was still nice to know.

He made pancakes. They were the go-to comfort food for himself, his father, and, after they'd met, Wrathion too - Wrathion liked his with far less syrup than Anduin would ever call decent, and far more savoury toppings, so he put some sausages from the freezer into the grill, too. He hoped Wrathion would appreciate that.

Wrathion shuffled into the adjoining living room about an hour later; Anduin was faintly snoozing on the armchair when the, in his half-conscious state, unexpected motion of someone else in the house had woken him up with a start. When he saw it was Wrathion and remembered what was happening, he calmed; then panicked again when he saw Wrathion moving to turn the television on.

"I made pancakes," he said, trying to distract him.  
It worked. Wrathion stared blankly at him for a few moments before changing direction and shuffling to the kitchen instead. Anduin knew he wouldn't be able to provide much conversation until he'd had something to eat and probably some coffee as well, so he let him be; and while Wrathion was facing away rummaging in a cupboard for the instant coffee, he subtly leaned over and unplugged the television from the aerial.

Wrathion returned to the living room with two steaming mugs in one hand and his plate in the other; piled with the remaining pancakes and, lo and behold, several sliced sausages as well as about half a tin of beans. Anduin accepted the proffered mug of - tea, it smelt like - just how Anduin liked it, too. The right amount of milk and enough sugar that everyone who he explained his preferences to called it "baby tea", but Wrathion had provided it for him without needing to ask. He smiled warmly at the other man, grateful for the gesture. He recognised Wrathion's methods of saying thank-you.

"This silence is awful," Wrathion said after a few moments of cutting up his breakfast. "Can we put something on?"  
"The aerial's broken," Anduin lied, "so is it okay if we watch a movie?"  
Wrathion shrugged, not caring enough to pick up on Anduin's ruse. "Sure."

They watched Lord of the Rings until the doorbell rang. Wrathion looked at Anduin with a mixture of puzzlement and betrayal on his face; Anduin smiled anyway. "It's just my dad," he explained. "He brought some of your stuff over."  
"What?"  
"Your stuff. Clothes and things. I think he managed to get your DS, too."  
Wrathion failed to look reassured. Anduin was aware that his father's position on the police force was known to him. He was probably beginning to put things together. Anduin walked over and kissed Wrathion on the head - "don't worry about it. I'll deal with it," then headed to the front door.

Varian hadn't been kidding when he'd said he hadn't been able to bring much. He was still in his uniform, having driven his work car over, one cardboard box in hands twice the size of Anduin's - "I can't stay," he said, regret evident on his tone. "But I guess I'll see you later. You've probably only got a couple of hours before Sully comes to take you both in for questioning."  
Anduin scowled. "It's a ridiculous bit of protocol. He needs counselling, not hounding."  
"I know, son. I've done all I can."  
"Yeah. Thanks, dad." Anduin smiled, genuinely but sadly, as he took the sealed cardboard box from his father. He watched him drive off, his hands always so large and clumsy on the steering wheel of a car only designed for the average human, not the walking bulwark that Anduin's father had somehow turned out to be despite his, well... /inconsistent/ childhood nutrition.

He brought the box inside. Wrathion had his knees tucked up to his chest, pressing them tight with his arms; he glanced at the box, then Anduin. Anduin smiled again, a little less genuinely, and moved to place the box on the table in front of Wrathion, nudging his empty plate out of the way with the bottom edge of it.

Wrathion leaned forwards and opened it. It was mostly clothes, some half-worn; Varian had, obviously to Anduin, just gone through the rooms which weren't, well... crime scenes... and grabbed the first outfits that he'd found. There were several pairs of clean underwear and socks, and Wrathion's spare binder (which he hastily shoved underneath the growing pile of clothes as if Anduin hasn't seen it before). There was also, as Anduin had suspected, Wrathion's games console and games case along with its charger, and his phone charger too.

Anduin turned the movie back on so's not to be seen to be watching him. He knew Wrathion could be self-conscious sometimes, despite his usual confidence; now, he suspected, more than ever. He kept his DS out, slotting something into it and booting it up before glancing at Anduin.

"...uh. Thank you," he said, a little quietly.  
Anduin shrugged. "It's no problem, really."  
Wrathion glanced down, then hesitated, then pushed on. "I meant for yesterday."  
"I... no, you were right," Anduin said, suddenly feeling tears spring to his eyes but trying to ignore them. "I just messed everything up. I'm sorry."  
Wrathion fidgeted uncomfortably, tapping the stylus on the touch screen of his outdated console through the boot-up menus. It was old, but well taken care of; the silver paint was worn in places on the outside of the case. The white plastic underneath would have shown through had Wrathion not decorated the worn edges with gold permanent marker, drawing loose swirls and dots until it almost looked as good as new again.

"...yes. You sort of did. But, ah. Mostly for yourself, I suppose."  
"What?" Anduin almost sounded angry, but mostly hurt; he was already beginning to feel guilty, and now Wrathion was /blaming/ him?  
Wrathion gave him a heavy sigh. "I only meant you'll have to put up with me living with /you/, now. At least for a while."  
"O-Oh. Oh. Yeah. I guess."

Wrathion's living arrangements hadn't exactly been stable. He'd moved out of the house with his father and stepmother only a few years ago, and had been cared for by an abusive woman by the name of Corastrasza for a while; she'd seen him as more of an object than a person, and treated him as such. She'd grown tired of his attitude and moved out, leaving him to his own devices and expecting him to come to ruin; but Wrathion's excellent negotiation skills (Varian had even told him he'd make a fine police negotiator if he'd ever have the inclination) had brought the rent for the place down into a range he could afford, and he'd been happily living there ever since.

Anduin had met him while he'd been living alone save for the occasional visiting friend - Amber being the main one, and her girlfriend Layla occasionally joining her. He'd known Wrathion had family problems that had caused him to move out, but... until yesterday, not the sheer extent of them.

And he'd walked headlong into them and managed to disturb them so much that he'd caused a woman to get murdered. Great job, Wrynn.

Wrathion noticed him crying. Anduin had been trying to hide it, to pass it off as an oncoming cold, but Wrathion always was too perceptive. He brought his console over and nestled himself into Anduin's lap, leaning his back against the armrest, providing the warmth and close company that he knew comforted Anduin where words couldn't. Anduin leaned his face into Wrathion's shoulder; one of Wrathion's hands came to lightly stroke Anduin's hair the way he liked it, his other idly playing whichever game he'd chosen (Anduin hadn't looked). Anduin tried to keep his crying quiet, and didn't notice that, at some point, he'd fallen asleep.

Several weeks passed. They were, indeed, called in for questioning multiple times; one of the officers had tried to frame Wrathion for the murder, even, using his apparent lack of emotional response to Rheastrasza's death as reasoning. But another interviewer had managed to prompt the man to cry by taking a more gentle approach, rather than a hard, direct one - and given the overwhelming forensic evidence against Neltharian, suspicions against Wrathion were officially dropped only a day after they were brought about.

Wrathion was allowed to move back into his flat. At first, he didn't want to, at least not while his father was still out on bail (Varian had fought as hard as he could to forbid it, but it wasn't within his power to decide). But an old family friend of his had come forwards - Fahrad was his name, a ginger man who reminded Anduin faintly of Genn Greymane's son (who he'd only met once or twice) - and offered to help Wrathion get settled back in. Anduin hadn't seen Wrathion for about a week after that happened, but next time he'd visited, he was in much higher spirits.

Gradually, though, Wrathion's thing began to migrate to Anduin's house in greater numbers. He took his phone charger and his binder back, but never the rest of his clothes. Gradually, bit by bit, he began to spend more and more time with Anduin. And Anduin couldn't find it in himself to complain.


End file.
